


As If We Never Loved At All

by Charlie9646



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After affects of War, Angst, Breakup, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Heartbreak, Potion’s class, Pureblood Culture, Teenage Smoking, UEA, eighth year, epilogue compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646
Summary: Pansy knew she should not have started this— all it would lead is to heartbreak. But, Hermione was like a spell that she did not realize someone had put on her. They get less than a school year together. But if it doesn't work out, if something ends tragically, does it mean it is no longer of value?But, the one thing Pansy knows is that Hermione Jean Granger is far more than just a mudblood.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	As If We Never Loved At All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jess6800](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess6800/gifts).



”Letting you go is the hardest thing I have ever done.”

Pansy Parkinson didn't want to go back to Hogwarts, but her father insisted. They were Slytherins; they did not hide from their enemies. They faced their dragons. Beyond that, if she was going to make it in this changing world, she needed an education. Pansy was required to be the best she could be. She planned to keep her head down and finish her final year at Hogwarts as best as she could.

Hermione fucking Granger had other ideas.

It all started with a potion’s class and cherry-colored lipstick.

****************************

This new potion’s professor had decided you were not allowed to sit with your own house. Pansy didn't understand the point of such an endeavor, but school unity was likely the reason. That's all everyone seemed to talk about these days— unless they were Slytherins, that is. This eighth-year potion’s class was a rather strange situation; there were not enough of them to separate the class into two.

Pansy had been one of the first in the classroom, taking her seat in the back of the room. Draco tried to sit next to her, but the professor, an older man with greying hair and beady blue eyes that made her queasy. He reminded her of Dumbledore— at least what the man may have looked like when he was younger.

The man said, ”Mr. Malfoy, the goal of my class is to bring the houses together, allowing you to sit with Mrs. Parkinson, defeats that purpose.”

Draco grumbled something Pansy could not hear and stomped off. She understood his frustration and why her friend desired to be near someone who knew well and trusted. They, as Slytherins, had targets on their backs, no matter what their Ravenclaw professor insisted on house unity.

Granger was one of the last of the students who came into the classroom; her hair was wild, and her eyes red. The only seats left were next to Pansy and the other Draco. The Gryffindor’s eyes flicked back and forth between her options. She bit her lips as if she was trying to stop herself from asking one of her silly questions. But instead, the girl sighed and sat next to Pansy. Neither of them said anything and watched the other out of the corner of their eyes.

Ignore her, thought Pansy she's not worth it, no matter who she is. No matter what she had done.

Granger asked her, ”Would you like me to go get the things we need?”

Pansy snapped at her, ”No, I can.” Though the truth is, though, she hadn't even heard what they were supposed to be getting. She had to get away from the muggleborn, who unnerved her. Something about Granger made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Maybe it was the fact she knew in her heart of hearts— Granger was dangerous. She wouldn't have survived the war if she wasn't.

The ingredients we're easy to pick out, she kept her eyes on what the others took and followed suit. Pansy walked back over to Granger, who leaned over her textbook. Pansy hated to admit—one thing Granger had going for her—she was pretty.

She still was a mudblood, though, even if Pansy wasn't allowed to say that anymore. This was going to be a long bloody year.

**********************

Pansy sat on the front steps of Hogwarts, screw being the perfect pureblood daughter. She took a drag of her cigarette and wished it was something stronger. Six months and four days. That's all that was left of this year to survive. She was the traitor to her fellow students— the one who tried to give Potter up.

Someone called the dark lord’s pet— the same monster who had threatened her father’s life. Believing in keeping lines pure had nothing to do with wanting to kill muggleborns or muggles— it was not the same thing.

Hermione sat down next to her and said, ”Can I have one of those?”

”It’s a nasty habit, and you shouldn't start. It might end up killing you.”

”I didn't ask that, Parkinson. I started this summer, so that ship has sailed.”

Your funeral, ” muttered Pansy, so the good little know it all wasn't so bloody perfect after all then. She handed Hermione a cigarette and lighter.

Hermione coughed loudly, on her first hit off of it, clearly having never smoked before.

Pansy laughed, ” You're a terrible liar, Granger.”

Hermione smiled and laughed, ”And your a terrible potion’s partner.”

”What can I say? I usually was partnered with Draco, and he's far too controlling to let me help. Snape didn't help matters with his crappy teaching.”

Hermione tucked up her knees under her chin and said, ”What was he like? As your head of house, of course.” 

Pansy sighed, ”Nasty? Rude? Snarky? An odd sense of humor. He just seemed mostly worn down. Like a pair of boots that needed to be resoled. I don't think any of us, even the Slytherins, really actually truly knew him. Why do you care, Granger?”

Hermione said, ”Just making small talk.”

”About Snape? He's a rather unusual topic if I do say so myself.”

”Never said I was any good at it.”

Pansy laughed, ”You and me both, Granger. But, if you enjoy my small talk, want to go to the Leaky this weekend? Draco has his head so far up Astoria’s ass I am sure he can feel her cough.”

Hermione said, ”Well, that's a fascinating way to um put it, but yeah, I would like to go to the Leaky with you. Meet you there at ten?”

Pansy said, ”Ten see you there.”

Merlin’s beard, what was Pansy getting herself into?

********************

If there was a hell— Pansy was going to it. She had been doing whatever this thing was for a couple of weeks with Hermione. She did not love the girl, no sir; she just felt attraction for her. They stood next to each other shoulders just barely touching,

Hermione turned to her, her lips a bright cherry red, and said, ”What will become of us?”

Pansy said, ”What do you want to become of us?”

”I want to stay like this forever. I want to be right here, in this very moment, and never lose whatever this is...”

Pansy turned to Hermione brushing her fingers over the brunette’s pale rose cheeks. She lied to her; she lied to her in a way that the Slytherin nearly believed it herself. ”I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” And then she kissed her. Their tongues danced; they tried to bind their bodies together. Fingers tangled into hair, legs brushing in places that made the other cry out.

They giggled like the children they would swear they no longer were. They were young, in love, and the world around them did not matter one darn bit. The future was like the weight of the world on Pansy’s shoulders. But, she wouldn't put such a weight on Hermione's shoulders; she did not deserve it.

Pansy was going to hell, but she was going to enjoy her trip. There was no hope for a pureblood daughter who would have to marry to keep her line alive and a muggleborn. No matter how much either of them hoped, there was.

************************

Pansy and Hermione stood next to each other, waiting on the Hogwart’s Express for the last time. It was unseasonably cold this summer even for England— though it very much matched Pansy’s mood. She had to end this, whatever this was. Today she had to behave like the grown-up Pansy was, not the child she wished she could be. Children could be with people there was no hope of anything more of than a Hogwarts fling, women could not.

Hermione Jean Granger was the prettiest girl Pansy had ever seen. Astoria and Daphene didn't hold a candle to her. Her beauty shone through her. When she told you about something interesting, the way she laughed, her crooked smile, the way her cheeks turned a creamy pink when she thought someone was watching them.

The way she said Pansy’s name when she close, the little tiny whimpers she made. Hermione Jean was not just a muggleborn— she was so far much more. And now Pansy had to crush her heart under the weight of her boots, under what it meant to be a daughter of the sacred twenty-eight.

She was to marry Theodore Nott this summer, and he would take no drop of pleasure in his fiancé cheating on him— mudblood girl or not. She wasn't being forced into Matrimony, not one bit, but her father would pressure her until she did marry. 

Why was she holding off on this? She should have done this back at the castle. She should have done this months ago; she should have never started this doomed relationship. But, after all that happened, didn't she deserve a little bit of comfort? Didn't she earn a balm on the gaping wounds on her soul?

No, she did not. This was no different than what Potter had done to Draco with Snape’s spell. Regardless she just like that stupid boy did not know how her actions would hurt Granger. But in the aftermath of dating her, of being with her she now did, though that did not change what she had to do. She was in for a bloody Sickle why not go in for a Galleon?

Rip the bandage off, Pansy thought to herself. You're a Slytherin stop acting like a ridiculous Hufflepuff.

She ripped her hand away from Hermione as if it were a hot iron. Pansy snarled, ”I never loved you, you stupid mudblood, it was just a game until I could marry Theo.”

Hermione’s face turned as pale as the white sheets in the Hogwart’s dorm. Her brown eyes filled with tears. Then her eyes turned to chocolate diamonds hardened and cruel.

She snarled and gave Pansy a hard shove, ”Did Snape teach that line? Couldn't teach you potion’s but could how to deal with the little mudblood that was holding you back? Go to bloody fucking hell, Parkinson. Everyone was right; I should never have trusted a snake. They are all just using people on their way to the top.”

”You Granger know nothing of duty, of nothing of history, of nothing of having to do what is best not for you but for your family. You know nothing of honor. I have to do this for my family, for the future! You surelydon'tknow anything about such a thing your parents are just muggle dentists!”

Hermione cried out, ”My parents are dead, Parkinson, so they aren't anything anymore!”

Pansy cried, ”I am sorry, Hermione!”

“Save it for someone who cares!”

Pansy later curled into the side of her compartment that she shared with Draco and cried. She cried for all that she once had, loved, and never would have again. She was going to hell; she was the woman who led the girl she truly loved— just to shatter her heart for something stupid. That's what blood purity was. It was something stupid.

She wanted to run through the train and tell Hermione how sorry she was but did no such thing. She couldn't what was done was done. Pansy would not raise her children like she was raised. This would never happen again, at least not her children. She swore to herself. Her children would never give someone they loved up for something as stupid as blood status.

Hermione was not anymore undeserving of her magic than anyone was. She was smart, funny, beautiful, loyal, brave, and also a little bit cunning. But the weight of history rested on Pansy’s shoulders— the importance of magical history. She had to marry a pureblood man, and have pureblooded children. That was what she was put on this world to do; that was what her mother had ground into her since she could understand the spoken word.

Pansy on the eighth of August would become Mrs. Pansy Nott, and if she did not? The options on the island were those like Goyle and Crabbe. The very idea sent shivers up her spine. This was the best option— this was the right choice, no matter how much it hurt. There was no place for a muggleborn in their family, let alone a muggleborn woman.

At least not when the family was under her father’s control, when his generation was gone she and those like her could make a change. Pansy and her brother had to have children. They had to continue their line, no matter how much suffering it might cause them.

Life wasn't about the choices you wanted to make, but the ones you had to. And this was nothing like what Snape had done. No matter what Hermione said.

*******************************

Pansy’s son was starting his first year at Hogwarts today; his name was Brandon Marcus Nott. He was the apple of his father’s eye, his mother’s very reason to live and worth everything that she had done.

Pansy watched out of the corner of her eye, Hermione Jean Granger, though it was now Weasley. The woman held a girl’s hand with wild red curls and had a boy on her hip. They stared at each other, brown eyes into brown thinking of all it could have been, and what it should have been.

They were like two passing ships nearly missing each other, but coming so close to bringing either something magical to the other or doom. They were both mothers now, wives, lovers, and friends— just not with each other.

It was as if they had never loved at all, and maybe that was for the best, even if it was a heartbreaking feeling. But it was just how the cookie crumbled. Gryffindors and Slytherins had no business together, anyway. They were doomed from the very start— at least that is what Pansy told herself, so she didn't break down in King’s Cross station.

No one needed to see that. A Slytherin breaking down was never a pretty sight. It was a rather horrible sight to see. Pansy was here to see her son off— not cry over lost loves, and what could have been.


End file.
